Nutritional Freedom/Whole30 – The First Quarter

I mentioned briefly in my post about crewing for my girlfriends at Yeti 100 that I had started working with a new dietitian to address what had become chronic digestive issues. I also suggested I might write a bit more about that later, this is that post. I’ll start from the beginning…

Earlier this year, I shared in both blog posts and through social media that I was finally getting back to some decent running mileage after a spectacularly terrible couple of years due to ongoing issues with Hashimoto’s thyroiditis, an autoimmune thyroid condition. Any hint of the speed I used to enjoy was nowhere to be found, but quite honestly I was thrilled to just be able to put in some mileage. I started dreaming about racing again, feeling that I was finally on the road back to competing. I raced the Tenacious Ten in Seattle in April with some of my Wilder sisters and ran the Lake Run, a local race, a few weeks later in early May. Both were terrible. I don’t think the issues at the Tenacious Ten were digestive related, but at the Lake Run they most definitely were. I wrote it off to the sudden onset of summer, as my body never manages the heat well, especially when we go from snow to 80* in a matter of two weeks as we did this spring. Feeling really discouraged after the Lake Run, I backed off the mileage hoping I to relocate the good groove I was in. It was nowhere to be found.

May slid into June, which dragged into July. The digestive issues only worsened. By late July I wasn’t running much at all. I’d tinkered with my diet, but without the focus to sustain any of the changes I attempted, I understandably made no progress. In early August, my family made our annual pilgrimage to Cape San Blas, FL (which was heavily impacted by Hurricane Michael last week – {{sobs loudly}}) where I hoped the change in scenery would reinvigorate my training and help me get back on track. Instead, the opposite happened. Despite eating quite well while we were there, my digestive system was a wreck. I only ran twice and regretted it both times. Usually I run big mileage while we’re there, in fact my only 80+-mile week was on the Cape in 2013. To not even be able to manage a few short runs without issue was a huge disappointment. And knowing what I do now about what would happen to the Cape just two short months later, I’m even more disappointed about it. By not buckling down and addressing my digestive health earlier this year, I missed what turned out to be my last opportunity to run through St. Joseph Peninsula State Park, to take photos of Eagle Harbor, before they both would be devastated by the hurricane.

The dunes at St. Joseph State Park Cape San Blas, FL Aug 2017

It took another few weeks before I would reach out for help, but through the Whole30 instagram page, I found Claire Siegel. With all of the research I’ve done the last few years, coupled with information from my physician, I knew that eating a paleo diet would help. Recovering from autoimmune flares requires reducing inflammation and healing the gut, and for many of us, diet is a huge source of inflammation which only exacerbates digestive issues. Foods that many people digest just fine, people with autoimmune conditions often don’t. Foods such as grains, dairy, and legumes all have the potential to create problems. I’ve experimented with the Whole30 in the past, but being rule-phobic have never finished one. I decided to work with Claire to give myself the best chance at completing the program and to execute a thoughtful reintroduction so I can hopefully nail down exactly what foods are giving me problems. Her program being 12-weeks long meant we’d be working on more than just successfully competing the Whole30, which was exactly what I needed.

Week 1 was a “prep week” for the Whole30. Lots of getting reacquainted with the rules, planning for the first week on the program. Week 1 also included some pretty intentional goal setting, which helped quantify exactly what I wanted from these twelve weeks. I knew I wanted to resolve my digestive issues and lose a few pounds, but what else? I included improving my relationship with food so that I can take care of myself like I need to without feeling deprived. I set some fitness goals that included my getting back to “regular” training mileage again, resuming my dormant yoga practice, and maintaining the strength training I’ve managed to stick with this year (historically, as running mileage goes up, my commitment to strength training goes down). Lastly, I included a daily meditation goal, as I’ve neglected to cultivate a regular meditation practice this year despite several cracks at it.

Week 2 brought the start of the Whole30. I was nervous thanks to past failures in completing the program, but felt I’d given myself the best chance that I could. I was armed with new information that I thought would help, reading in a recent issue of Yoga Journal of all places about how some people have electrolyte issues when switching to a paleo diet due to the body releasing the water that’s stored with carbohydrates. Considering that electrolyte issues have been an ongoing issue for me running and my doc recently noticed that my blood levels run low on the regular, I thought this might explain some of the past trouble I’ve had with Whole30/paleo eating. So I was prepared to salt the heck out of my food and see what happened (this ended up making a tremendous difference). I knew I’d be crewing for my friends in Virginia at the end of the first week of the Whole30, but I planned as much as I’ve planned for anything and was ready for the challenge. Little did I know that driving for 20+ hours on backcountry mountain roads would make me terribly car sick, bringing an unceremonious end to my Whole30 as I snacked on potato chips at 2am on Saturday morning in an attempt to calm my swirling stomach. It helped, my friends finished their race, and I kept all of the food in my stomach. It was a win for the day, but a setback for my own personal goals. Saturday with my friends was not the time to sort through what it all meant, so I did that on the 10-hour drive home on Sunday, deciding that I’d just start over. Redo Week 2 and just move on. What felt like a really big deal, a Terrible Thing on Saturday, seemed like a bump in the road by Monday.

The redo of Week 2 went fine. What lingering frustration I had about the setback was gone by mid-week. We were to see Death Cab for Cutie, one of my favorite bands, in Chicago on Sunday. I focused on preparing for the train ride and planning what we’d eat in the city. It was marathon Sunday, and I knew just being around all of the runners would be energizing, and not necessarily in a helpful way. It was a super-hard day to be in the city and Whole30ing, but thanks to the hubs, me and my Whole30 survived to see Week 3.

Week 3 brought me to the second week of my Whole30, which was getting pretty easy when I was at home. The food I make for myself is usually Whole30-compliant, so I have a lot of familiar recipes to pull from. I was eating plenty of yummy, healthy food and it wasn’t hard. Until we’d eat out. I found myself avoiding eating out as much as I could, which isn’t a bad thing. However, I did manage to attend an engagement party at my favorite brewery without eating any chips or drinking a beer. Major win. Week 3 is when Hurricane Michael devastated the Forgotten Coast, and it was a tense couple of days searching for information on our beloved Cape. During this stretch, I learned that I am not an emotional eater, which was good because I didn’t think that I was. It’s being distracted that is my biggest challenge. So it’s not that I need a cheeseburger because things are terrible, it’s that I eat a cheeseburger because all of my attention is directed elsewhere. This was a huge aha moment. It explains why I’ve had trouble making these changes in the past, and especially why my diet was so terrible when I felt my worst. I was functioning at a such a low level that undertaking something as significant as a dietary overhaul required mental resources I didn’t have. I can give some grace to that girl who was so sick a year or two ago. She was just in survival mode. Week 3 concluded with another concert, this time in St. Louis. We drove so we took dinner with us from home, making a search for a compliant restaurant unnecessary.

Sitting here at the start of Week 4, beginning the third week of my Whole30, the hardest part has been not chewing gum. It’s a bit of a nervous habit, an outlet for the extra energy that’s always bubbling around, but also helps with the dry mouth that accompanies the allergy meds that make life worth living this time of year. I’ve accepted that this is just something to endure, and I’m counting down the days until the end of the Whole30, not so I can have a beer or a cheeseburger, but so I can chew gum again. I’ve also learned that my head isn’t in a great place for meditation right now, so I’ve set that goal aside for the time being. The Kavanaugh confirmation process brought up a lot of stuff that made meditating a bad idea. I’ll try again in a few weeks and work on redeveloping the habit if it feels safe to do so.

Even though I’m only a few weeks into this process, my digestion has already improved significantly. I’ve been able to run comfortably outside again for the first time in months and have had quite a few workouts without any digestive issues. My mileage is still quite low (~20 mpw), but now that I’m through the worst of the fatigue from the transition of the diet (and two of three concerts this month are over), I should be able to start slowly increasing mileage again. I’m cautiously optimistic.

Cape San Blas, FL Aug 2017

 

I Am A Democrat

I’m embarrassed to admit that until five years ago or so, I considered myself rather apolitical. I voted, tried to stay informed of issues in my community, but I didn’t feel a connection or passion for our government, good or bad. I wasn’t raised in an overly political family, I remember my parents voting when I was younger, but we didn’t discuss politics around the dinner table. Nor did we have cable, so while they regularly watched the nightly news, it wasn’t something we watched as a family. While they were actively involved with the local PTA during a teacher strike including hosting gatherings at our home, that’s about the only overtly political act I recall from my childhood. As an adult, I expect that the apathy or disconnect is rooted in privilege, as I am white, middle-class, married to a dude, and have always had access to the healthcare I need. Sure my family didn’t have a lot of money growing up, and M and I were quite poor early in our marriage, but I’ve had the means with which to make stuff happen for myself, which is also a form of privilege. So let me say that up front…I’ve been inordinately lucky in a multitude of ways and I haven’t been as active and engaged in our political processes as I should have been. But in 2013, that all changed.

We lived in Colorado and I worked for the local hospital. I led a public health program, supervising three different coalitions focused on reducing the incidence of chronic disease through healthy eating and active living. None of these coalitions focused on educating the public, all three were focused on environmental, policy and systems change, which meant that rather than tell people to eat more fruits and vegetables for example, we worked with the city government and community partners to ensure that all residents, but most especially those that were disadvantaged, had access to fresh, affordable, healthy foods. One of those three coalitions worked specifically in eight low-income neighborhoods in Fort Collins, neighborhoods that were primarily mobile home parks inhabited by Hispanic residents who were undocumented. It was my first time working hands-on with this community and even though they spoke very little English and I spoke even less Spanish, they taught me more about what’s wrong with our immigration system than any class I could’ve taken. I’ll never forget working with my colleague who coordinated this coalition to help a family who’s home became uninhabitable after the floods in Sept. 2013. The family had just brought home a newborn, and the weather significantly damaged their house. The family was afraid to ask for help, as being undocumented left them extremely vulnerable. E, my colleague, was determined to help. He worked his connections, I helped him behind the scenes. Through Colorado State University, he was able to secure someone who helped repair the family’s home, fixing the roof and windows, making it safe for the family to reside there once again. The family had nowhere else to go, they would have lived in that dangerous and inadequate shelter if we hadn’t stepped in. It put a human face on the immigration debate, and the esoteric conversations in the news suddenly had a face. All of the residents I met through my work with that particular coalition were kind, generous, hard-working folks who just wanted to provide a safe, stable home for their families. Something we all want. Most left incredibly dangerous situations to come here, and I genuinely believe that our community was better for having them be a part of it.

As part of that work with those three coalitions, I also was engaged with affordable housing initiatives, as over-priced rent/mortgages was a key challenge in Fort Collins. I learned about urban renewal and redlining, how our government effectively stole the homes of our African-American neighbors under the guise of “development” or “progress”. As these neighborhoods were cleared to make room for interstates or arenas, those residents often couldn’t purchase homes in other parts of town, most of the time because white residents didn’t want them there. Many of those folks went from being homeowners, living in what we now would call a mixed-use neighborhood with residents of multiple income levels, shops, churches, and other small businesses, to living in projects where their families stayed for decades. Learning how our government had harmed these communities, harmed these residents, was transformative. Especially when you consider how much homeownership can be a mechanism for building wealth. And how many residents were cut out of this mechanism deliberately by their own government. Racist lending policies by banks only contributed to this problem. This article from Roanoke, VA is a good starting point if urban renewal is an unfamiliar concept.  Deepening my understanding of how our government actively harmed and dismantled entire neighborhoods, and how racist community development policies wiped out the wealth of African-Americans gave me a much different perspective on the “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” mentality I hear so often from Republicans. It’s hard to pull yourself up when your government took your boots.

Also while working with these coalitions, I got acquainted with the concept of health equity, or rather health inequity, as when considering how low income residents are disadvantaged by the lack of adequate health insurance for example. Even though I spent considerable time working in health care, and had even sat across from patients who were making hard decisions about which medications to take and how to put food on the table, it was in stepping back from the issue that I better understood how our current medical/healthcare system actually harms people. This was also in the early days of the Affordable Care Act and many people in public health and healthcare were energized by some of the provisions included within it. Getting more people insured benefited everyone, as not only would the newly insured benefit from increased access to care, but this would also reduce the amount of uncompensated care provided by hospitals. The birth control mandate meant that every woman, no matter where she worked, would have access to the prescriptions she needed. Community benefit meant that hospitals would be responsible for the health of the entire community, not just the patients that walked through their doors. “Prevention” became more than a buzzword, as many more organizations had an investment in keeping people healthy versus profiting from illness. For the first time, we had real, tangible tools with which to address health inequities and the collectively we really started moving the needle. The Affordable Care Act and my work with disadvantaged communities also forced me to think through my own personal thoughts about access to healthcare. I realized that my personal belief is that healthcare is a right that should be afforded to everyone. No person living in this country should go bankrupt because of a diagnosis, or not be able to take medications prescribed to them by their physician because they can’t afford them. People should be able to walk through the doors of any hospital and receive treatment, the same treatment regardless of their station in life. Currently, we have tremendous disparities in health, particularly along racial and income lines. Disparities such as residents living on the same road ten miles apart having life expectancies that differ by 15 years. Disparities such as African-American women having low-birth-weight babies at exponentially higher rates than white women, even when controlled for education and income. I personally believe the government has a responsibility to actively resolve these disparities.

The health equity rabbit hole led to an environmental one, as many lower income folks live in areas with poor air and water quality, they are the ones who live next to toxic waste sites. For example, living in an area with chronically poor air quality leads to higher incidences of respiratory infections and chronic lung conditions such as asthma. I do think the government has a responsibility to understand environmental risks and to protect residents from harm. When residents live next to polluting factories, and the government loosens regulations on those factories, the government is contributing to the harm of its citizens. And this is setting aside how these same residents being uninsured or underinsured when it comes to healthcare further exacerbates any of these conditions. In addition, I think public lands are vitally important, as is protecting sacred Native American sites and other areas of cultural significance. Considering the great harm white settlers inflicted on Native Americans, the lands that were stolen from them, the genocide that occured, the very least we can do now is honor and protect the sacred lands. I don’t think a company’s desire to mine resources from public lands supersedes the public’s interest in those lands. The earth is not a renewable resource. There is plenty of research that tells us climate change is real, that we are headed towards a point-of-no-return when it comes to the health of our planet. Republican legislators, including those governing states that stand to be directly harmed by rising seas, ban the use of the term “climate change”, prevent research, dismantle committees. Only one political party takes this threat seriously and is willing to take any steps to address it.

More recently, I’ve learned that in certain states it’s still within the law to fire someone from their job if they are gay. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 has never been amended to include gender identity and sexual orientation, despite many years of efforts. The Justice Department under the Trump Administration has rolled back previous more inclusive rulings by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, stating that they were legally meritless. At the state level, protections vary widely from some states like mine (Illinois) outright prohibiting discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity, to two states going so far as to prevent local governments from establishing such nondiscrimination laws (Arkansas and Tennessee). Instituting protections at the federal level would ensure that all LGBT citizens are protected from employment discrimination, no matter where they reside.

Relatedly, I learned about how the Reagan administration not only didn’t assist with the AIDS epidemic as soon as it was clear that something was happening, but by actively not getting involved, thousands and thousands more people died. We were four years into the epidemic before the president even said the word aloud in public. Recently, I watched as a baker in Colorado went to court, repeatedly, to get permission and approval to discriminate against his customers. No, I genuinely don’t care what anyone’s religious beliefs say about gay marriage. Either a baker bakes wedding cakes or they don’t. This is no different than the soda fountains in the fifties that wouldn’t serve black people. Many of those business owners also tried to hide behind religion while they discriminated against their neighbors. A business either serves everyone soda or they serve no one soda. That many republicans went to bat for this baker is horrifying. This is not a government that is of, for, and by the people. More seriously than a baker not baking cakes, there are tremendous health disparities that accompany being transgender in particular. People who are trans are routinely denied healthcare, are discriminated against when receiving care, and most crushingly, commit suicide at much higher rates than the rest of the population. A government that mocks this community by making outrageous “bathroom laws” contributes to the pain endured.

With regards to gun violence, only one political party is even willing to discuss or consider policy solutions to this uniquely American problem. Republican politicians have allowed themselves to be held hostage by the NRA and republican citizens have not applied enough pressure to change this. Most Americans are in favor of public policy changes to address gun violence, but because of republican legislators, the CDC can’t even study it. So any policy changes we discuss aren’t rooted in research or best practice. Although at this point, I’m personally in favor of doing something, anything to prevent more kiddos from dying at school or more women being shot by their romantic partners. But I would love to see the CDC be able to address this as they do most any other public health problem, with research and the identification of best practices.

Lastly, abortion. To start, no one is pro-abortion. Literally no one. I saw a headline this morning in a St. Louis paper that mentioned “Abortion Activists”. This term is false. Abortion activists do not exist. Pro-choice activists do, and the language is important. Fundamentally, I believe a woman should have full and complete autonomy over her body, and this includes when and if to have a family. But particularly in this country, in this moment in time, this is even more critical. Presently, fatherhood in our society is optional. A man can get a women pregnant tomorrow and walk out the door, never to be seen again. The legal mechanisms for women to get child support are often beyond the means of low-income women, and that’s even if the father would or could pay. The state of our health care system is such that a woman may not be able afford to have a child, or to raise the child. She might have a job where she can’t get the time off to go to doctor appointments or for the delivery of the baby. She might not have maternity leave. In many communities, affordable childcare for infants and toddlers simply doesn’t exist. Programs such as SNAP, programs that help ensure families have enough food to eat, are constantly under attack from Republicans. How we can’t all agree that everyone has a right to food on the table is beyond me. But the social supports that women of all income levels need to raise a family in this country don’t exist, so for many single women, and even some married women, having a family is financially ruinous, if not impossible. As for anyone’s personal religious beliefs about abortion, those have no place in public policy. And if someone opposes abortion on religious grounds, and is also opposed to Planned Parenthood and the Affordable Care Act, then in addition to being anti-abortion, they are also anti-women. Both Planned Parenthood and the ACA provide women with low-cost, effective birth control, which are vital in reducing unplanned pregnancies. Research proves that providing low-income women with free, reliable birth control (such as an IUD) dramatically reduces the incidence of unplanned pregnancies, for very little money. Republican legislators routinely defund these programs, while actively working to limit access to abortion services. And I won’t even get started about the ridiculousness of a company such as Hobby Lobby having “religious beliefs” they can use to deny women healthcare. The abortion debate really isn’t about abortion, it’s about family planning. When women have access to the health care they need, unplanned pregnancies go way down. We can reduce abortions without making it illegal. But when I see people railing against abortion, and railing against Planned Parenthood, I know their concern isn’t for women. And genuinely, I can’t express how frustrating it is to have large groups of old white men in our government making these decisions. Men who will never be impacted by these policies. Men who use their religion to hide their racism, misogyny and bigotry. I genuinely believe that when we have a government that more fully reflects our country, that same government will become more compassionate and just.

There are a lot of other reasons, but these are the big ones, on why I now call myself a democrat. I’m invested in electing more legislators who believe that healthcare is a right; who want to create a more just and compassionate immigration system – including a pathway for those residents who are here now and are good citizens to stay; who understand our government’s racist past and are willing to work to rectify the damage that’s been done; who understand that climate change is real and will advocate for policies that reduce the human impact on the planet; who believe that being lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender is being part of a protected class – meaning that you can’t be fired from your job due to these things or denied healthcare, and believe that marriage is for everyone; who support researching gun violence and support developing policy solutions to address it; who support a woman’s right to choose and who acknowledge that the government has no place in a woman’s healthcare or family planning beyond ensuring access to equitable care. I’ve spent the last year volunteering with my girlfriend’s campaign for the state house and have three yard signs in my front lawn for the very first time. I expect that this is the start of deeper engagement with the political system. In the midst of a year that’s been very challenging for a lot of reasons, knowing that I’m actively helping to get more democrats, and especially women who are democrats, elected, has provided much peace of mind. I’m no longer sitting on the sidelines of this democratic republic. I am late to the party, but I’m finally here.

Crewing for Friends Or I Don’t Know If You Know This But I’m Not Sober

It was the middle of the night Friday. Amy and Lisa were deep into their race, at the point where all of the training and all of the racing had cumulated into a moment of truth. They’d been climbing uphill for miles, with three miles still to go until they reached the top. They were hurting, but resolute in their goal. While we waited for them at the aid station, a woman held court in a camping chair near the quesadilla station. She was laughing and talking with her friends, clearly enjoying the early fall night. It was impossible not to hear the conversation. After some time, we learned she was a runner who dropped from the race. You’d never have known of what must have been deep disappointment from the fun she was having. At one time we heard her shout “I don’t know if you know this, but I’m not sober” to the man making the quesadillas. We all cracked up. The aid station crew had Fireball and she was nursing a beer while she talked. We should all be so lucky to face our great disappointments surrounded by supportive friends and strangers, with a shot of Fireball and a cold beer under the stars. It reminded me of everything I love about ultra running.

Amy planned for this race for months. A hundred-miler has been on her radar for a few years, and I always expected to crew for her when she finally toed the line. It was a tremendous bonus for me that Lisa was running too, and that I’d be crewing with several of our friends. Although it’s been several years since I’ve been able to chase my own running goals, crewing this weekend reminded me how much I love this sport and the people I’ve met because of it. Eight years ago, I joined a Runner’s World forum about the Boston Marathon. I was just looking for information about navigating Athlete’s Village and perhaps a recommendation about hotels. I never expected to find my people. I lurked for a few months before getting the nerve to post myself, but engaging that first time introduced me to a fabulous group of imaginary friends and led me to accomplish more with my own running than I ever thought possible. Seeing “normal” (I use this term loosely – I love you weirdos, but you are not normal) people accomplish extraordinary things was incredibly motivating and redefined what I expected from myself.

So fast-forward eight years and there I was crewing my friends in a hundred-mile race in western Virginia. Even if I can get back to regular training and racing, a hundred-miler has never been a goal of mine, but I LOVE crewing. I love supporting my friends in accomplishing big, hairy goals. We all got into town early evening Thursday and quickly got down to the business of getting everyone ready to run Friday morning. Unrelated to the race, but significantly for me, I started working with a new dietitian a few weeks ago, and was at the beginning of a Whole30. I prepared extensively for traveling and crewing, and felt prepared to take care of myself while we took care of our friends. Resolving my digestive issues is the next step in getting back to my own training and racing, and spending the weekend with my friends only reinforced how much I miss it.

In the dark of early morning on Friday, we drove up to White Top for the start of the race. It was misting, but gone was the heavy rain of the last few days. Amy and Lisa planned to run together for as long as it made sense, which meant we’d be able to see them both at aid stations. They took off down the mountain and we were off. Crewing involves a lot of hurry up and wait. Rushing from aid station to aid station, stopping for food and gas as needed, but always working to stay ahead of your runners. It didn’t take us long to fuck up, as barely a quarter of the way through the race we missed them by minutes at the Alvarado aid station. Fortunately, that was the only blip, but it meant that both Amy and Lisa were out of fluids for a few miles. The lesson for future crews – always switch out the hydration bladder, just in case. The day flew by and I managed to stay on my food program, with eating a tuna packet mixed with guacamole while everyone else ate pizza being a highlight of the day (go me).

Breakfast selfie by Troy Headrick

At about halfway through the race, the rain of the last few days caught up to Lisa, with her asthma and allergies rearing their ugly heads. The clouds burned off, making it quite warm. With a spontaneous onset of IT band syndrome, she wanted to back off the pace, encouraging Amy to go ahead without her. We sent Amy off with Harry to pace her, and helped Joe look after Lisa. As badly as Lisa felt, between her allergies and bum knee, her attitude was remarkable. She appeared to be unaffected by the circumstances, committed to adapting her goal and still finishing the race. Witnessing her calm focus was a highlight of the weekend, and something I hope to emulate. We runners say it a lot, but our sport truly is a perfect metaphor for life.

Photo by Troy Headrick

Our runners persisted on through the night, with the crew napping as we could. Harry paced Amy, and I walked six miles with Lisa, wanting to spend some time with her before the gap between her and Amy grew big enough where we wouldn’t see her as much. After Harry, Troy took over pacing duties, and then Audra for the homestretch. The hours and hours in the car on mountain back roads took their toll on my stomach, handing me the worst case of motion sickness I’ve had in years. My Whole30 came to an abrupt end overnight, when I ate some potato chips in hopes of calming my churning stomach. They helped, as they always do. I felt badly about letting go of my own priorities at first, even with as sick as I felt, but quickly let that go as I was there to support my friends, and my being incapacitated helps no one. I knew I’d need to look after Amy once the race was over, and needed to not be bed-bound myself. Restarting a Whole30 on Monday was a good compromise, I just needed to get through the day.

Just before 6:30a, Amy and Audra came into the finish area, still in the dark of early morning. Knowing how long she’s chased this goal, how hard she trained, how well she took care of herself all summer, I teared up watching her finish. Standing there with my friends who’d come from all over to support Amy and Lisa, I marveled at how we were all here because of one little now-defunct forum on the Runner’s World website. I was reminded of what we can accomplish when we surround ourselves with people who believe in us, who can push us forward when we doubt ourself. And what a wonderful thing it is to contribute to the success of someone else.

Photo by Troy Headrick

On the tail end of a two-week period that seriously felt like a decade, I savored those four days with my friends. After fourteen days where many women were retraumatized thanks to the news coming out of Washington, my batteries were recharged experiencing the best of humanity at Yeti. Women supported women, men supported women, men supported men, women supported men. Running ultras really is a metaphor for life…train and prepare as best you can, don’t go it alone, chose your crew wisely – pick people who will hold you up when you can barely hold yourself up, ask for help and tell people what you need, modify goals as needed, celebrate success, rest when you need it. And in my case, sometimes you just have to start over. I started another Whole30 today, and feel very confident that I’ll finish this one. Repeating Week Two of Claire’s 12-week program isn’t the end of the world, it’s not even a setback.  It’s an adjustment to changing circumstances, adapting to the environment. I’m excited to see where the next ten weeks will take me, and what I’ll be able to accomplish when I’m healthy. I’m going to box up the inspiration from the weekend and hold onto it tightly. Grateful for the reminder of what we can do when we chase big, scary goals and surround ourselves with people who believe in us even when we are filled with doubt.